


Mirror

by itsjayjman



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Derealization, Dysphoria, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mirrors, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 01:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsjayjman/pseuds/itsjayjman
Summary: A shattered reflection, glaring mockingly back at me from the rough tiled floor.
Kudos: 4





	Mirror

I stand, broken shards of mirrored glass tearing apart my bloody shaking hands. A shattered reflection, glaring mockingly back at me from the rough tiled floor. If it’s burning a red of hatred or a red of blood, I don’t know.

I stand, and I can’t see the reflection of me in the mirror, not because it isn’t me in the mirror but because I broke it. I did, I swear I did. I did.

I stand, and all I can see is what’s in my mind’s eye. A strong and brave young man with a nice job that pays the bills, a good group of friends and maybe a partner that lets me ramble about what I like and love and cherish to them without judgement. That’s all that I want to see in my head, and I do because that’s me. It is. Not the me that that damned mirror shows, no matter how true it supposedly knows. It doesn’t know, it doesn’t. It never has.

I stand, a lovely partner, 2.5 perfect children and a cast of friends behind me. My suit and tie are nicely starched, more rigid than the lie the mirror tells me every night as I stare at its broken glare, which it stares back. That horrible, hateful glare it stares, because I am weak to its judgemental glare. I’m not, I swear. I’m not.

I stand, then sit down at my boringly nice job that pays the bills, gives me time away and sick leave for the hospital and therapy bills I shouldn’t have to pay, because that awful mirror is broken. I broke that mirror, I did.

I stand, wishing I broke that horrible little glaring and staring mirror all those years ago because it’s only ever shown me a lie, a false truth that actually is, but never should have been. All I see is _pretty_ and _her_ and _girl_ and I wish I broke that damn mirror, let it rip me apart, rip me apart and make me anew, rip me and make me into something that is actually _me_. Just make me, _me_. Make me into something that isn’t glaringly _she_.

I stand, hating that mirror that I swear is broken, it is. It _is_. Because how else would I be out here with my perfect life, my perfect suit and my perfect tie, with nice, shined up shoes in my perfect, _perfect_ bloody little _lie_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work that I'm publishing. If anyone actually reads this, it'd be cool if I could receive some feedback. Cheers :) P.S. I wrote this last year during an exam and just touched it up a couple of times, hence its short-ness.


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